Burn (Bayonet Scars #5)

“Tell me that crazy old fuck isn’t thinking about listening to a fucking thing that little parasite has to say.” Ryan spits the words out like they’re sour to the taste.

“Give it a fucking rest,” I say. Christ, it’s like he’s a fucking ten year-old all over again, pitching a fit when he doesn’t get his way.

“What, you spend a few weeks with Junior and suddenly he’s your fucking family? You trust him over me because he’s blood?”

My eyes narrow at Ryan’s words. One of these days I really am going to shoot him, and I’m convinced nobody would really blame me. Ma might, but she’s never gotten riled up by Ryan’s bullshit the way the rest of us do.

“Feeling insecure?” The words have flown off my tongue before I can stop them. He needs to shut the fuck up, and I need to not instigate this bullshit fight, but I can’t help it. “Worried that mommy doesn’t like you best anymore?”

I wouldn’t see it if I didn’t know my brother as well as I do, but his Adam’s apple bobs—an indication that he’s upset. Otherwise, he gives no sign that my taunts bother him. I don’t regret much, but I do regret this. Ryan is particularly sensitive about Michael because of how he hurt Alex. As if meeting my sister for the first time since she was born and her not knowing who I am wasn’t enough, having to contend with Ryan falling in love with her has pushed me over the edge. He’s protective and as thoughtful as Ryan gets when he’s with her.

“We’re dealing with this later, brother,” he says and shoves his pointer finger in my face. Ryan’s cool gray eyes and jet-black hair flood my view as he snarls at me. I’ll let him kick my ass later for my comment. I fucking deserve it. I know all too fucking well that he’s always been uncomfortable with the fact that he’s not really Ma’s son. Like since he’s not blood he’s missing out on something. He’s just a dense asshole who can’t see how she looks at him. If anyone has a right to feel inferior, it’s me. I’m the reason Ma lost so much, including Michael and Alex. I’m the reason all this shit went down. If she’d just aborted me when she had the chance, her life could have been so much better.

“Meantime, get Scavo out of the fucking closet and bring him into the living room,” I say firmly. In the corner of my bedroom, Grady is huddled with his daughter, Cheyenne, and her boyfriend and our newest prospect, Jeremy. He grits his teeth but gives me a chin nod and directs a couple of Forsaken from other charters to escort Cheyenne back to Ma and Pop’s house on the other side of the property. Jeremy says a few words to Grady and disappears out of the room with Cheyenne. Asshole can play doting boyfriend later. Once she’s dropped off, he better be getting his bitch ass back here to help with all the fucking bodies.

“You want answers, just like we all do, Ry,” I say, much quieter now. As a way of making amends, I use a name I haven’t called him since elementary school. He waits a beat before nodding his head and retrieving Scavo from the walk-in. We have Forsaken here from three different charters. Most of them know each other, some of them don’t. Like the good little soldiers they are, they all move automatically to their positions. The men who want to know what the fuck is going on head into the living room, and those who don’t want the drama head outside to keep an eye out for any more bullshit.

The entire Fort Bragg charter is crammed into my tiny living room, with Scavo seated on the couch beside Michael. The mood is tense as fuck, but I sense an air of excitement around me. We’ve been in a fucking black hole of ignorance for almost a year now, and it’s wearing on me. I’m supposed to be our tech guy who can figure out puzzles and solve club problems, and it’s pretty much impossible to do my job when I don’t have a clue where to start and I can’t stay upright long enough to figure it out. As the club’s treasurer, I’m also the numbers guy. We’re not in the red, but if we keep spending the way we have, we will be. Everything’s happened in such quick succession this last year that we can’t catch our breath, and solving problems takes time and money we don’t really have. It’s fucking time we got answers and stopped bleeding ourselves dry.

“Talk, asshole,” Grady says on a sneer. I can’t blame him for refusing to let go of the chip on his shoulder. Scavo scared both Grady’s woman and his kid. We’re supposed to protect our women and our kids, and we keep failing. It doesn’t sit well with any of us.

“Mr. Stone, the last time we spoke, we were not on even ground. It seems I was sent to retrieve the principe and principessa under false pretenses. Had I been aware of that fact, I believe our last meeting would have gone much more smoothly.”